


Faucets & Friendships (and where the lines cross)

by spacestationtrustfund



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, the 21st century is a piece of shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Faucets aren’t exactly a suitable replacement for Captain America,’ Natasha said, her amusement with the conversation present in her every word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faucets & Friendships (and where the lines cross)

‘Have you asked Sharon out for coffee yet?’ asked Natasha, her heels clicking crisply on the floor as she walked along the hallway. She raised one of her perfectly styled eyebrows at him and winked in an exaggerated fashion. ‘Have you?’

‘No,’ Steve said patiently. He was used to the line of questioning Natasha brought up whenever she felt like she needed to interrogate him on his personal life. ‘It doesn’t work on me, anyway—there’s not much point in coffee if it doesn’t do anything. Caffeine doesn’t have any effect any more.’

Natasha pursed her lips. Steve knew she understood more than she was letting on; she went along willingly with his choice of discussing the coffee instead of Sharon, although he doubted she would bring it up unless he did. She was thoughtful that way. ‘Shame. Tea is still a thing, though. Or, you know, water.’

‘I couldn’t ask a girl if she wants to go out to get _water._ ’ They turned right and Natasha tapped a pass code into the door. The automated voice confirmed their identities, and they continued walking. ‘There are faucets for that sort of thing.’

‘Faucets aren’t exactly a suitable replacement for Captain America,’ Natasha said, her amusement with the conversation present in her every word. She stopped in front of the sleek black door to Fury’s office and pressed her thumb to the scanner. Steve followed suit, and the door slid open smoothly from the middle, the silver SHIELD insignia separating and vanishing into the walls.

Fury was standing with his back to them, looking through the immense windows at the slowly darkening skyline below. The sun hung low in the sky, turning everything dim and hazy, and washing the world in pastel hues of pink and orange. Fury didn’t turn around to see them when the door opened, only sighed heavily as they approached. ‘Romanoff, Rogers.’

Steve glanced uncertainly at Natasha, who rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated shrug. Fury turned around then, walking to his desk but not sitting down. ‘Romanoff, I need you and Rogers to investigate the threat we discussed last week. Take Wilson with you if you want. Get in there, wipe our data, and get out.’

‘Understood, sir,’ Natasha said. She sounded bored.

‘I’d send you alone,’ Fury admitted, ‘but I want Rogers to take a look outside. He’s been cooped up in here and the Tower for too long.’

‘Understood, sir,’ Natasha repeated. Now she sounded sympathetic. It almost made up for the fact that she was talking about him while he was there.

Fury turned around and paced back to the window restlessly. ‘It’s a wonderful view from up here. Natasha, I want this to be a ten-minute mission.’

Natasha nodded crisply, although Fury still had his back turned. ‘No specific human targets then, sir—just the data?’

‘None worth talking to.’ Fury lowered his head but remained facing the windows. Steve thought briefly that a supposedly dead man should probably avoid standing in front of large obvious windows for all the world to see, but he kept his mouth shut. ‘You know the drill, Agent. And bring Rogers up to speed on the debriefing for his friend, will you?’

Steve resisted the temptation to remind them both that he was still in the room, or even that he had been in the first place. He settled for scowling at the back of Nick Fury’s head and wondering if SHIELD was ever going to tell him what his missions really were before they told him to go on them.

‘Hydra hacked some of our data a while ago,’ Natasha explained as they walked back down the hall. ‘They stole SHIELD secrets. We have copies backed up, of course, so our mission objective is to get in and to destroy the information. That’s my job. You and Sam—we’re bringing Sam, by the way—make a distraction and give me a ride, since I can’t actually fly.’

Steve nodded, still annoyed. ‘Neither can I.’

‘You know what I mean.’ Natasha allowed the door to scan her and continued walking. ‘So, Sharon. Are you even interested?’

Steve ignored her. ‘What did Fury mean about Bucky?’

‘Oh, that.’ Natasha looked vaguely guilty. ‘Since it’s been a while and he hasn’t tried to kill you again, Fury thought it was okay to stop assigning you a bodyguard.’

‘He’s been assigning me a bodyguard? Without telling me?’ Steve suddenly wished he had yelled at Fury when he’d had the chance. ‘Who is it?’

‘Sharon.’ Natasha raised her eyebrows slowly, judging his reaction. ‘Agent 13. She’s good, Steve. Very good at going undercover.’

Steve decided that he would only ask out Sharon if there was no other option; when it came down to secrets and lies, Natasha was a much better option to choose. ‘Why did no one tell me?’

‘I’m telling you now,’ Natasha said, as if it was a completely ridiculous thing to ask.

‘I don’t need a bodyguard,’ Steve said stubbornly.

Natasha sighed patiently. ‘I know that. Which is why Fury decided to let Sharon do something else! Stop acting all hurt and offended that people are worried about you. It seemed like the right thing to do.’

‘How is having me followed without my knowledge the right thing to do?’

‘Oh, don’t be stupid! He’s an ex-assassin who’s killed everyone he’s been told to kill—except you. What if he decided to finish his mission? What if he didn’t have a choice? Steve, I _know_ him—he trained me. I know he’s your friend, but he’s still dangerous.’

Steve stopped walking and faced Natasha, ignoring the curious looks from the people walking by them. ‘But giving me a bodyguard without telling me doesn’t help—I can take care of myself. And anyway, why make it Sharon instead of you? I though you would have at least volunteered.’

Natasha folded her arms stubbornly. ‘I did. But Sharon Carter is perfectly capable.’

‘I didn’t say she—what?’ Steve forgot all about his indignation at being followed. ‘Sharon what?’

‘Carter.’ Natasha’s face was perfectly blank, and Steve didn’t think she understood the significance of the surname. ‘That’s her last name. Did you not know that?’

‘No one told me anything,’ Steve said, trying to keep the confusion from his voice. Of course something like this would happen, he thought bitterly. It had been seventy years, and Peggy had definitely gotten married—of course, there was always the possibility that it had been a coincidence, and they weren’t related, but it was pretty hard to believe in coincidences.

He thought about it, for a moment: If he had asked Sharon out to coffee a day sooner, would it have been different? Would she still have wanted to go out with him after everything blew up, literally, and there was so much death? Always the secrets; she’d never mentioned she was an Agent. Once again it was all lies, Fury lying to everyone, over and over again.

But Sharon—Agent 13, they called her. She had shot a man in the head. She had no qualms about her duty, and he admired that. Natasha had the same ferocity. He wondered if Sharon had the same gentleness and dizzying protectiveness that Natasha commanded. Somehow, he doubted anyone could come close to Natasha unless she wanted it that way.

Again, lies. Lies spreading all over the face of the earth. Maybe it had been better to release all of SHIELD’s secrets to the world. Let them know who exactly was supposed to be protecting them. Let them know how exactly Hydra had gotten so far in, so deep into SHIELD that even Fury hadn’t noticed until it was almost too late.

It was probably not the right time to ask Sharon if she wanted to get a cup of coffee, he reasoned. And besides, he wasn’t sure if going out with her was what he really wanted to do. When it came down to secrets and lies, Natasha was a much better option to choose.

 

***

 

‘What about Rachel who works with the decryption team?’ Natasha asked suddenly. They were on the roof, lying down with their hands gripping the edge. Natasha tilted her head and raised on perfect eyebrow. ‘She’s cute.’

Instead of answering, Steve reached for his shield and pulled himself up until he was kneeling on the roof, looking over at their targeted building. It was practically crawling with enemy guards, every one of them armed. ‘What if I started trying to set you up too, Natasha? Would you give up then?’

Natasha took her gun from its holster and tapped her earpiece to activate it. ‘Falcon, we’re ready. I could use a ride. Over.’ She dropped her hand and looked up at Steve ruefully, starting to stand up. ‘I don’t need a date, Rogers. I have Clint, as unfortunate as it seems.’

 _And I have you,_ Steve started to say. He decided against it and instead pushed the toes of his shoes against the lip of the roof. ‘If I wanted to go out with Rachel or Sharon or anyone else I would ask them. I don’t need you to play the matchmaker.’

‘All right, all right.’ Natasha held up her hands in surrender, the gun still in her right. Behind her, a faint, dark blur appeared—Sam. ‘I get the message. I’m just saying—if you’re going to be the model for America—perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea to find you a—’

‘Incoming, nine o’clock,’ Sam called as he dropped onto the roof beside them. ‘You still want that ride, Natasha?’

‘If you don’t mind,’ Natasha replied coolly, and Sam shrugged. He was still wearing his sunglasses, although Steve doubted they would stay on long. ‘Helps with the glare, man,’ Sam had explained before. ‘Can’t fly straight otherwise.’

Sam put his arms around Natasha’s waist and she looped one of her arm around his neck, the other one holding her gun. She clicked off the safety with her teeth. ‘When you’re ready, Falcon.’

Sam readjusted his sunglasses awkwardly. ‘Roger that, ma’am.’ Still holding on to Natasha, he stepped off the foot of the building and swooped towards the large, flat expanse of concrete below. A few of the tiny figures looked up and pointed, but none of them appeared to notice the threat for what it was. Steve unslung his shield and, holding it on his arm and with his heart suddenly beating rapidly in his chest, pushed himself away from the roof to the solid ground far beneath him.

Sam dropped Natasha and she rolled into a standing position, gun already aimed. She shot down the first four guards without stopping, then turned and ran towards the door. Several of the guards started after her, but Sam landed and folded his wings, grabbing his own weapon from its case. ‘A little help, Rogers!’

Steve hit the concrete and tucked into a roll automatically, scrambling to his feet as quickly as possible and joining Sam. He knocked the gun out of the first guard’s hand and smashed it with the edge of the shield, then turned to face the next. There were at least two dozen of them.

‘Thanks ever so much,’ Sam yelled, spinning around to engage another enemy agent with his fists. A shot rang out; one of the guards from farther away had decided to play sniper. The thought made him angry, and he threw the shield like a javelin, hitting the sniper and knocking him away.

Sam dodged a punch and barely made it out of the way of a bullet. Steve cast a quick glance towards the door and saw Natasha was nowhere in sight; she must have made it in. Sam was still fighting the guards.

‘On your left,’ Steve said, half a joke, half a warning, breath catching in his throat, the sight of the black-clothed figures sending a jolt of exhilarating panic through him. Sam turned his head a little and snapped his gun up so quickly it became a blur of motion as he fired. The enemy agent collapsed backwards with a cry, but more kept coming.

‘You just gotta rub it in, Rogers,’ Sam shouted in response, shooting another two in rapid succession. ‘Speaking of that, there’s a couple coming up behind us, if you wanna take care of that.’

‘I kinda do.’ He grabbed the shield—it was so much easier now that it attached to the suit—and threw it at the first approaching guard. The man fell and his gun clattered to the pavement; Steve snatched up the shield and sent it spinning towards the next group of agents.

Sam shot another, then turned around; his side was clear. ‘You ever talk to Natasha, someone high up, get them to give you a promotion. You can do better than field work, taking down the enemy agents with someone like me.’

‘I don’t want a promotion.’ Steve smashed the first guard’s weapon with the rim of the shield, then swung around the crushed metal to knock down the second. ‘I don’t mind doing field work with you. Takes my mind off things.’

He hit the next guard with the flat of the shield, then spun around and kicked another’s feet out from under—her. As the agent scrambled up, her hair fell down from her mask, cascading in blonde waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were bright as she aimed her gun.

‘Rogers!’ yelled Sam. ‘Don’t be a pussy, shoot her!’

The girl switched off the safety and Steve hit her in the face. She crumpled like a doll, broken and bleeding. The instinct was obvious, not to hit a girl, but he forced himself to reconsider. She was working for the enemy. She _was_ the enemy.

‘Good work,’ Sam said dryly. He put his gun back in its holster, scanning the area for more agents, but none appeared. ‘Didn’t think you had it in you, Rogers. What would your pal say to you now?’

Steve considered hitting Sam over the head with the unconscious girl’s gun, but decided against it. Like his sense of humour or not, Sam was helpful on missions. ‘He would say to get my head in the game and keep going.’

‘Better do it, then.’ Sam clapped him on the back and rubbed his neck. ‘Those guys pack one helluva punch.’

Steve ignored him. With Sam, that was generally the best thing to do. He attached his shield to his back and, gun in hand, started walking towards the door with Sam hurrying along in his wake. There was a lot more to do before the mission was over.

They met Natasha just through the door, shattered glass and unconscious bodies nearly covering the floor. ‘Took you boys long enough,’ she said, winking at Steve before turning to the computers and raising her gun. She fired three times, in rapid succession, and Steve watched as the screens cracked and turned blank.

Sam whistled. ‘Why didn’t you do that before we got here?’

‘Oh, you know me,’ Natasha said, sticking the gun inside the waistband of her pants, ‘I like to show off.’

Steve grinned at her as he looked around the room. Her device was sitting on the table, glowing with a tiny red light. The flash drive upon which she’d hidden the virus was still in the computer. ‘You weren’t done with erasing all the files.’

Natasha stepped over the body of a young man and kicked the window with the heel of her boot, breaking the glass and watching calmly as it flew outward into empty air. ‘If you got any smarter, Rogers, you might catch up to me.’

‘Not a chance,’ Steve replied, following her over to the window, peering down at the river glittering like a silver snake below. ‘It would take me longer than only three quarters of a century to catch up to you.’

Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Stop with the mutual appreciation fest, already,’ he said loudly. ‘Anyone would think that Natasha and Barton weren’t a thing, and you and her were, and that would—’

The glass panel behind them exploded and Steve grabbed Natasha around the waist, pulling her down and swinging his shield to cover her face as particles of glass rained down over them. Sam yelled something unintelligible and the metronomic sounds of machine-gun fire rippled through the air, deadened in the aftermath of the explosion.

Then Natasha pulled herself up, her face smeared with blood; the broken glass had cut lines down her skin. ‘Come on,’ she mouthed, wrapping her fingers around the barrel of her gun, and dashing to the window. She turned and fired over her shoulder as she leaped out through the jagged hole, twisting to shoot back into the room as she fell. Sam jumped next, his wings bursting into view as he caught Natasha and they swooped away.

Steve dodged the first enemy agent and ran through a hailstorm of bullets to the window. Sam and Natasha had vanished from view beneath the skyline. Below him the river twisted through the green earth, a knife cut in the soft ground.

Smoke was still filtering through the room as he shoved himself away from the burning building, the shield on his back deflecting bullets as the enemy agents fired again and again, the ground rushing up to meet him faster than Sam could fly.

Natasha and Sam had half-crashed half-landed on the bank of the river, and one of Sam’s wings was smoking dangerously from the impact. Steve trudged over to them, wincing slightly—his shoulder had been bruised from the fall. Natasha was speaking quietly, although Sam didn’t appear to be listening.

‘All clear,’ Natasha said, shaking the dust out of her hair. Her hand was pressed to her ear. There was still blood on her face, smeared from where she’d tried to wipe it away. ‘We’re good, Fury. All clear on your end?’

Sam took off his sunglasses—he had managed to keep them intact throughout the fight, but they were cracked and covered in dust—and squinted at the river. ‘That son of a bitch probably knew there would be backup. Didn’t bother to let us know, though.’

‘Yeah?’ Steve wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t decide whether or not to hate Nick Fury. It fluctuated, depending on his mood. A lot of things did, those days. ‘We got out okay.’

‘And how many did we have to kill? I don’t like killing, man,’ Sam said fiercely. ‘I’m good with knockouts, but the killing is a bit much. I thought we were the good guys.’

Natasha removed her hand from her ear and grinned widely. With the blood and dirt and river water, it looked ghastly but somehow still dangerous. ‘Good guys fighting the bad fight. You know how it goes, Wilson.’

Sam didn’t look happy with that statement, but he nodded reluctantly. ‘You got it right, ma’am.’

‘And if you want to take it up with Fury,’ Natasha added, gesturing to the opposite bank of the river, where the helicopter was coming in for a landing, ‘I suggest you talk to him yourself.’

Steve pushed his hair out of his eyes and squinted to see through the sun. ‘Would it have killed him to land on our side of the river,’ he said. ‘It would’ve taken maybe five more seconds.’

Natasha grinned widely and started wading into the water. ‘Come on, boys. We have a safe house to be at.’

 

***

 

‘So have you asked out Sharon yet?’ asked Natasha as she wiped the blood from the vertical cuts on her face and washed her hair absentmindedly. It was weird to be back at Sam’s house, after all that had happened. Relaxing, somehow. Peaceful. ‘I bet you haven’t.’

Steve made a face at her in the mirror. ‘I told you, I’m not interested.’

‘She’s cute.’

‘I don’t trust her.’

‘You don’t trust anyone,’ Natasha reminded him, which was a difficult point with which to argue, because for the most part it was true. Steve frowned and considered for a moment—it was one thing to watch Natasha beat him, and another thing entirely to let her win.

‘I trust you,’ he said finally.

Natasha set down the towel she was using with a smug self-satisfied look on her face. She rubbed her fiery red hair with the back of her hand. ‘Would you go on a date with me if I asked you to?’

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Steve said shortly.

Natasha grinned. ‘You would, wouldn’t you. I’m sorry.’

Steve turned and left the bathroom, ignoring Natasha’s smirk in the mirror. Sam was sitting in the chair, drinking milk straight from the carton, legs crossed casually. ‘I take it she’s fine.’

‘She is,’ Steve said. There was no more explanation needed.

Sam shrugged and set down the carton. ‘The impression I get from Natasha is that you could blow up the world and cut her in half and she could stand up again and ask you what the hell you were thinkin about doing.’

‘That’s not inaccurate,’ Steve admitted. He sat down on the edge of another chair, putting his hands on his knees and resting his chin on his chest. The fight was catching up to him, and exhaustion washed through him like the river water. He wanted to fall asleep and not wake up.

Natasha’s head appeared in the door to the bathroom. ‘Hey, soldiers. Steve, we should get going—sorry, Sam. Fury wants us back, and I’m guessing he doesn’t think we should stay for dinner.’

‘Such a shame,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I was so looking forwards to showing you the new place. You know, not blown up or covered in blood or dead bodies.’

‘Always a nice touch.’ Natasha leaned against the door. She too looked infinitely exhausted, but unlike Steve, she appeared to be forcing herself not to show it. ‘But we really do have to go. You’re welcome to come with us.’

Sam stood up, stretching his arms. ‘Think I will, actually. It’s been kinda lonely without you guys.’

Natasha smiled, but the fake in it was obvious. ‘Well, then let’s go. Fury said he’d drop us a line when he had our ride, but I think that it’s just going to show up and if we aren’t on it then that’s that.’

Steve mentally shook off his fatigue and followed them towards the door. Imagining stupid things about Natasha was pointless; there was no hope in it. He had to keep his head in the game and try to forget about things. Peggy Carter was a lost cause, Sharon wasn’t an option in his mind, and Natasha was headed that way. It worked best just to shut up and forget, as much as it hurt.

 

***

 

‘I take it you haven’t asked Sharon out for anything yet,’ Natasha said. She was standing in his doorway watching him pack clothes and weapons for their next mission. ‘Do you think you ever will?’

Steve shrugged. ‘You want me to be honest? No, I don’t think I will.’

‘Why not?’ Natasha twined herself around the doorway, her hair falling over her face. ‘There isn’t anything wrong with Sharon as far as I can tell. She’s nice, she’s smart, she’s tough—what more could you ask for?’

‘I don’t know,’ Steve admitted. Nice and smart and tough sounded good to him, but not when attached to Sharon Carter. He had the impression he would like them better attached to someone else. ‘I don’t think I would.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Natasha teased gently. ‘Handsome guy like you, you could have your pick of girls. Who wouldn’t want to date Captain America, after all? I can’t think of anyone, Tony included in the equation.’

Steve forced himself not to over-analyse Natasha’s comments; there was no point in over-thinking what she said. She flirted with everyone and everything. Besides, there was Clint, and even if there wasn’t, Natasha wasn’t exactly the prime candidate for an ideal American girl. She wasn’t even American, he reminded himself. As if it mattered.

‘Hey, um,’ Steve said, hating himself for being such an idiot and knowing it was a stupid inside joke that had absolutely no point at all, ‘after this thing is over, would you like to go and, um . . . I don’t know, get some water?’

Natasha grinned widely, the smile spreading across her face, the rainbow after the perpetual storm. Steve couldn’t help but smile back at her; the look was infectious. He allowed himself a brief, fleeting moment to imagine she meant it—maybe she did. ‘I’d love to,’ she said.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](spacestationtrustfund.tumblr.com).


End file.
